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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832674">Harlot Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranskini/pseuds/baranskini'>baranskini</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Hijinks, Humor, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranskini/pseuds/baranskini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has a problem.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diane Lockhart/Kurt McVeigh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Harlot Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You don’t even want to know how this nonsense came about, but here we are regardless!</p><p>Thanks as always, to my amazing beta and motivator Silverinia, and to Amphoraeimpetus for the ending, also to the manufacturers of red lipstick everywhere - I’d be nothing without you!</p><p>Hope you all enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Diane's lips drew into a wide smile as she read the name flashing across the screen of her phone, her heart racing--even after all this time. Biting her bottom lip coyly, she tapped the screen with a perfectly manicured finger, answering the call.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“Hello sexy,” she drawled breathily, smirking widely as she heard his low, deep laugh.</p>
  <p>“You greet all your expert witnesses like that?” he replied smoothly. </p>
  <p>“Only the ones I’m sleeping with,” she flirted back, swinging her chair from side to side in an utterly school-girlish manner. </p>
</div><p>"Huh," he hummed. "That seems to imply there’s more than one," he continued mockingly, and she could tell he was grinning as widely as she was. </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“I like to keep my options open,” she sassed.</p>
</div><p>“Is that so?" he mused. "And here I thought I was special."</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>Diane let out a throaty chuckle, her eyes crinkling in amusement. </p>
</div><p>“You are special dear," she began lowly. "You’re the only expert who's ever put a ring on my finger."</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“I suppose that's something then," he said, amused.</p>
</div><p>"Oh darling, it's a lot more than something," she breathed out in a rich alto voice that had him shifting. Her voice had always been a weakness of his.</p><p>“Di?” </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p>“Much as I’d love to continue this little game, I did need to speak to you,” he told her simply. </p><p>“Everything all right?” she asked, suddenly a little uneasy. It wasn't often that he called her at work, and it was even rarer that he called to do anything more than flirt or plan dinner. </p><p>“Um yes," he started and Diane felt her heart clench at his tone. "Well, I mean, technically yes," he fumbled.</p><p>“Kurt, you’re scaring me..." she warned quietly, swinging her chair to face away from her office door, not wanting to be distracted if he needed her.</p><p>“No no," he said hastily, placating her with his docile drawl. "It’s nothing bad, at least not in the sense you're thinking. It’s just... embarrassing."</p><p>Diane felt her shoulders deflate, her heart beating a little easier than a moment ago. Embarrassing, she could handle. </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“Oh?" she began in a teasing tone. "You forget which remote turns on the TV again?” </p>
</div><p>"No!" he hissed back aggressively, making her smile. He was so easy to wind up... "And that was one time!"</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>Diane sniggered, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from the full-belly laugh she felt inching its way up her throat. Technology was his Achilles heel and nothing amused her more than to hear him protest vehemently that he knew what he was doing. </p>
</div><p>"What’s up?" she asked after a moment, deciding to let it go for the time being. She listened as he let out a heavy breath, clearly anticipating some mocking on her part.</p><p>"I uh, well, okay," he fumbled, and she could tell he was uncomfortable. </p><p>"Kurt," she prompted encouragingly. </p><p>"You remember this morning?" he suddenly blurted out. "Before you left for work?"</p><p>Diane smirked. Oh, she remembered. He'd surprised her with croissants from the deli all the way across town, and she'd ended up on her knees for him. </p><p>"Yes," she purred seductively, and Kurt rolled his eyes in exasperation. </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Don’t use that voice," he groaned and Diane giggled. </p>
  <p>"I thought you liked it when I used that voice," she teased, knowing how easily he was manipulated by that sexy, breathy tone. </p>
  <p>"I do, Diane," he replied in irritation. "But I've got a problem here!"</p>
  <p>“A big problem?” she breathed out sexily, innuendo dripping from her words. </p>
</div><p>"Diane!" he growled and she fell apart laughing. It was just <em>so easy</em>.</p><p>"Okay okay," she said through gasping, giggle-filled breaths. "I’m sorry, I’m listening now, honestly. What’s the problem?" </p><p>There was a small silence between them and Diane could tell he was trying to decide if he believed her. With a little huff, he continued.</p><p>"This morning when you..." he started.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“Blew you?” she finished crudely, her smile wide.</p>
</div><p>“Jesus, Di!" he snapped back and she laughed again, her eyes wet with amusement. </p><p>"Sorry," she teased. "I didn’t realize you had such delicate sensibilities."</p><p>“When you," Kurt tried again, pausing for a long moment to make sure she wouldn't cut him off. "When you, uh, went down on me,” he continued and she could tell he was uncomfortable. Few things made Kurt as uneasy as talking about sex, especially over the phone. She blamed his republican tendencies; on occasion, they made him quite the prude. </p><p>"Yes," she prompted, using all her will power not to snicker.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"You were wearing that uh, that red lipstick?" </p>
</div><p>"I recall," she said, her teeth scraping over the very same lipstick on her bottom lip. </p><p>"Well," he replied, pausing. "It, it sort of, stuck." </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"What?" She frowned.</p>
</div><p>"It, when you, you know, I just can’t, it won’t come off," he admitted awkwardly and Diane’s eyes grew, blinking widely. </p><p>"Oh," she gasped, blushing. Of all the things she'd been expecting, that hadn't made the top ten.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Yep," he sighed defeatedly and she could practically picture the crease in his brow.</p>
</div><p>"So," she drawled out slowly. "You’re saying that you have my lipstick on your..." She trailed off, hearing Kurt groan over the mobile.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Yep, and it’s stained. I can’t get it off." </p>
  <p>"Well," she breathed out in amusement. "That’d be one hell of a marketing strategy for Yves Saint Laurent!" </p>
</div><p>Her giggles drifted over the call and she knew he was starting to lose patience with her, but how could he blame her? It wasn't everyday one's husband got, uh, branded in a vicious shade of harlot red. </p><p>"Diane," Kurt cut her off gruffly. "This isn’t the time. Just tell me how to get it off? I tried soap and water, but I just, I can’t get it off!" he moaned morosely. </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Did you try rubbing it?" she teased, unable to help the innuendo that slid off her lips. Kurt growled angrily. </p>
</div><p>"Funny," he snapped back tersely.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"I thought so," she laughed, sounding pleased with herself.</p>
  <p>"Diane, come on, please?" he begged.</p>
</div><p>"Okay, okay, I’m sorry," she said, finally sounding serious. "Soap and water won’t work, it’s a long-lasting formula." </p><p>"How long?" he questioned sounding desperate, and Diane bit back another laugh.</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Well, they boast forty-eight hours..."</p>
</div><p>"What?!" Kurt shrieked, and Diane was certain in all the time they'd been together, she'd never heard him shriek. "I’m gonna have, my... it’s gonna be red for two goddamn days?"</p><p>"Relax!" She smirked, trying to keep it together for his sake. Truth be told, her stomach ached from trying not to laugh. "Go look in the top drawer of my nightstand, you should see a packet of blue wipes, use those and it’ll come right off."</p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>"Okay," he sighed. She could hear him fumbling around in the drawer and then the crinkle of plastic as he removed a wipe. </p>
  <p>"Is it working?" Diane asked with a smile, the image of her husband removing her make-up from his person beyond hilarious. </p>
</div><p>"Uh, yes, oh thank God!" he groaned in relief, his voice sounding distant and she assumed she was now on speaker. "Oh thank God!" he repeated and Diane sniggered.</p><p>"All better, cowboy?" she teased, biting into her bottom lip.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s, thank God, it came off!” he replied, clearly relieved. </p><p>“I’m glad.” She smirked wryly. There was a long, awkward silence as she waited for him to speak, her mind racing as she recalled a conversation they’d had the night before. “Kurt?” she queried. </p><p>“Yeah?” he answered distractedly, clearly still trying to deal with his... issue. </p>
<p></p><div class="quoted-text">
  <p>“What time is your physical today?” she asked with a superior tone, smirking. There was a gruff grunt from his end of the phone. </p>
  <p>“‘Bout an hour ago,” he replied lowly. </p>
  <p>“Did you skip it?” she frowned, her brow furrowing. </p>
  <p>“No,” he said warily, his meaning clear. </p>
  <p>Diane’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing with amusement. </p>
</div><p>“So, you’re saying...” she began, biting back another fit of laughter. Kurt rolled his eyes, the shame and embarrassment washing over him once more. The elderly doctor had all but had a heart attack when he’d dropped his trousers. <br/>
<br/>
“I’m saying we’re gonna have to find a new doctor!” </p>
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